


bottle a smile

by pastelskrulls



Series: Vent [1]
Category: Marvel, Patsy Walker AKA Hellcat
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Guilt, Hospitals, Pills, Self-Blame, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelskrulls/pseuds/pastelskrulls
Summary: patsy is sick of causing pain





	bottle a smile

Patsy has been through hell. Twice. Three times if you count high school. And yet all of it seems easy compared to this. Lying in bed, choking on guilt and pain. A bottle of pills emptied into one hand and a glass of water in the other. Pills that will go down smoother than the thoughts she’s tried to smother. The thoughts rising like bile in her throat in the dead of night. Hellstorm and Jen and Buzz and all the people who hated her. All the people she couldn’t save. And her mother as the ringleader. Even in her last days, pumped up on morphine, she couldn’t stand Patsy. Had seen through all the masks Patsy made.

And soon everyone else would. And why would she want to be around for that? For Ian and Tom and Jubilee to turn on her? To wish for her death too. Why was she being so selfish? Taking their happiness and hoarding it. Begging for their attention, sapping their energy, wasting their time, their money, their love. What had she done for it? What had she given? What could she give? What would anyone want from her?

Besides death. She stared bitterly at the mess of pills in her hand. She didn’t want this. Not really. But who was she to deny everyone of the one gift she could give. Death wouldn’t make her happy, but if she could make the people she still had smile, it would be worth it.

She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, the rational part that was barely functional at this hour, that her friends would cry. That they would mourn her loss. That her death would bring no joy. Not again. Not this time. The empty bottle sat on her bedside table, taunting her. Bathed in moonlight, casting a faint orange tint across the wood.

She opened her mouth, tilted her head back, and dropped the pills in. She quickly guzzled the water, swallowing the mouthful and slightly soothing the avalanche rolling down her throat. She placed the glass down and closed her eyes. Her last thought was an empty, desperate prayer, that someone would smile.

***

When Patsy woke up, guilt settled in her stomach, followed by tears clawing up her throat and bubbling out in sobs. Someone next to her jolted. A tissue was held to her eyes, a soothing hand rubbed circles on her back. Soon arms were pulling her close, one hand carding through her hair. She pulled back, rubbed at her eyes, and looked up.

Ian stood next to her, worry and guilt painted clearly across his face. His eyes were red. He reached out a hand, placing it on the bed next to her’s. She slid them together and he squeezed.

Patsy cleared her throat.

Ian said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. She needed water. “I just wanted to make everyone happy.”

“How could that possibly make anyone happy?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I wasn’t thinking. Or, I was thinking too much. I don’t want to bother anyone anymore.”

“You’re not bothering anyone, Pats. You can always call me, or Tom, or Sharon, or Jubilee, or any of the people you’ve helped. We all care about you, Patsy,” he said. “I care about you,” his voice cracked, the last part of his sentence an almost whisper.

“Thank you,” she said, tracing a spiral on the back of his hand. “I’ll try to remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am so tired


End file.
